


It Was Only A Kiss

by leere



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Kinda fluff, Kissing, M/M, Peterick, Truth or Dare, drunk, first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2004216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leere/pseuds/leere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This Killers song is really starting to piss Patrick off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was Only A Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make this as accurate as possible, but I made up their bus driver. This is also set in 2007, during the Young Wild Things tour. I never do present tense, but I was feeling like it today. Interpret the ending as you wish, and enjoy.  
> 

Patrick is kind of annoyed. No, he's very annoyed. Because Joe is blasting Mr. Brightside and Pete keeps mouthing the lyrics at him suggestively and he can't fucking concentrate.

"God, turn it down!" he shouts, yanking his headphones off his ears, since he can't hear his music anyway, and whipping around to glare at Joe. "I can't even hear myself think!"

Joe looks at him, blinking innocently, and turns the music up a little louder. Patrick glowers at him and he grins and then looks down at his fingers as he quietly practices the beginning of the song on his acoustic.

Patrick's lips settle in a firm line and he turns around again, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, Pete is smirking at him. His eyes narrow when he winks, and he flips him off.

Pete grin grows wider, and he returns the gesture and sticks his tongue out playfully.

Patrick rolls his eyes and huffs.

"Hey, I got it!" Joe shouts suddenly, muting the song. He plays the introductory guitar riff a few times, and Andy applauds him when he's finished.

"You should cover that at the next concert," Pete tells Patrick. "That'd be awesome."

"Eh," Patrick grunts, then sings to himself, "Open up my eager ey - eye - eyes," and Pete smiles again when he fumbles with the pitch for a moment. Then, once he'd hit the note, he added, "'Cause- 'cause I'm Mr. Brightsiiiiide - siiiide - siiide."

Pete could watch and listen to Patrick sing for hours.

Andy starts tapping the beat - not the beat of the song, but _a_ beat - on his thighs, and Joe keeps repeating the riff, and Patrick's singing it, and Pete's sitting there doing nothing like he usually is, but he doesn't mind, because Patrick is singing "it was only a kiss" and staring at him and Pete knows he's thinking of the other night. And, hell, Pete is too. He's been thinking of that night since it happened.

The guys were really bored on the road, so Pete suggested truth or dare, minus the truth. Patrick was sipping on a red solo cup full of whiskey, because even if he looks like a innocent little guy who never gets shit-faced, he does, and Joe and Pete were splitting two six packs of beer, and Andy was drinking soda, and they didn't have a show for three days, so getting wasted sounded great. So, predictably, they all ended up some degree of drunk except for Andy, who was totally into it anyway. The dares started easy. They had to pull over so Joe could buy some tiny condoms. Andy had to knock on some random home they went by and hug the person who answered the door. He ended up terrifying some hot teenage chick who was in nothing but a towel and almost got the cops called on him. Pete had to run naked down a relatively crowded street. Then Pete, still naked except for his boxers, just because the guys had insisted he wear something, dared Patrick to find someone really tall, hug their legs, and not let go. He did it. And then he got smacked on the head by the six and a half foot tall guy he'd chosen.

So then Pete and Patrick were cramped in the bathroom together, and Pete was dabbing the nasty cut on Patrick's head with disinfectant because apparently this was all his fault. Patrick hissed when the wipe touched his skin.

"You're an asshole. This is all your fault."

"You shouldn't have done it to a huge black guy who's twice the size of you, dumbass!"

"He was the only tall person I saw! Everyone else was super short!"

They argued for a bit more, until Patrick said, "Yeah, okay, whatever," and it ended the conversation. Pete put a Band-Aid on Patrick's forehead, then kissed it.

Patrick sighed and frowned at Pete. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing it better," Pete answered. "C'mon."

Patrick nodded and opened the door. He stepped back into the living area, where Joe was taking up the whole couch and Andy was huddled in an arm chair, already asleep.

"When'd he pass out?" Pete asked, poking Joe's shoulder and nodding at Andy.

"I dunno. Like. Two minutes ago."

"Okay. We can play without him. Who's turn is it?"

"Yours. Ron said we need to keep driving though, so no more pulling over."

"Aw," Pete sighed, then shouted, "You suck, Ron!"

Andy jolted, but didn't wake up.

"Suck my balls!" Ron shouted from up front.

"Present them!"

"Orgy!" Joe cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, which caused a chain of events: Pete laughed loudly, which made Andy lurch again, which startled Patrick, who stumbled back into Pete's arms. Neither of them moved; Pete stared down at Patrick, who stared up at him with big eyes. And then Joe grinned like the Cheshire Cat, struggling to sit up. "Ooh! Ooh! Pete, I dare you to kiss Patrick! But not, like, a quick kiss - a good kiss. With tongue."

Pete grinned, nodded eagerly, closed his eyes, and puckered his lips. Patrick broke away. "I'm not kissing him."

"You guys kinda kissed before. What's the big deal?"

"Uh, I'm not gay. That's the big deal. And, Joe - it's Pete!"

"Do you not find me attractive, Patrick?" Pete asked, looking and sounding hurt. He pouted at the younger man. "Oh, am I just not your type? Or - or, am I just ugly? Joe, am I ugly?"

"You're not ugly."

"Patrick thinks I'm ugly!"

"I don't think you're ugly," Patrick said, pressing his lips together. Pete was the group's sex symbol for a reason, he thought, looking Pete's nearly naked body up and down.

"But you don't think I'm hot."

"I never said that."

"But you don't wanna kiss me."

"Pete, shut up."

Pete's bottom lip was still jutting out, and he reminded Patrick of a dopey looking puppy who'd just been scolded. Except, he was Pete, and he wanted a kiss.

Patrick rolled his eyes. "You guys are stupid. I'm going to bed."

Pete reached out and grabbed Patrick's arm. "You're walking away from a dare?"

"Yes. I am."

"You can't do that."

"Yes. I can." Patrick pulled away from Pete and crossed his arms, glaring at him.

"Patrick, c'mon, it's just a kiss."

"Just a kiss? Pete, God, you're so goddamn - ugh. We're drunk, okay, and we need to sleep now, 'cause it's late, and we're gonna do something we regret. So let's go to bed now."

"Quit bein' a pussy," Pete said, and then reached forward, grasped Patrick's shoulders, and pulled him in for a wet, sloppy kiss, with tongue.

Patrick made a muffled sound of protest and struggled to get away, but Pete shoved him back, trapping him between his body and the door. Joe cheered from the couch.

Patrick's morals and the alcohol were fighting a bloody battle, but finally the liquor won and he found himself placing his hands on Pete's bare chest and kissing back, eyes closed. Pete grinned into the kiss, thinking, _Fuck yeah, I'm getting laid tonight._

Pete let go of Patrick's shoulders to slip one hand down to his hip and the other to his belt. He fumbled with the buckle, and Patrick's heart rate sped up. His brain was foggy, and he couldn't tell what was fucking him up more; the whiskey, or the heat of the moment, and the heat of Pete's skin, and - Jesus fucking Christ.

Now Joe was a little less enthusiastic and a lot more concerned. "Woah, woah, guys, I dared you to kiss, not - fuck - Patrick, keep your pants on!"

Pete was struggling with Patrick's belt, and Patrick had dropped his hands to Pete's waist, tugging him even closer.

"Okay, guys, I'm drunk, but not that drunk, and this is a really fucking stupid idea."

Pete broke the kiss, hands still on the belt he was just starting to remove. He looked at Patrick, who was panting and staring up at him with half-lidded eyes. Then he looked at Joe. "Shut up, Trohman."

"Pete, come on," Joe said, frowning at him.

"Patrick?" Pete asked softly, raising an eyebrow at him. _Please, please, please,_ he thought.

Patrick looked at Pete's face, then down at both of their hands, then back to Pete's face. He blinked a few times. Then he exhaled, and lightly pushed Pete away. "No, Pete."

Pete sighed, but nodded.

"I'm going to bed," Patrick said, touching a hand to his forehead. "Pete, don't try to - to join me or anything."

Pete nodded again.

Patrick went to his bunk and fell asleep there, but Pete passed out on the couch, spooned up against Joe. He woke up with a light headache, but he wasn't really hungover. Patrick acted like he didn't remember the night before at all.

"That sounds awesome," Andy says, and his voice brings Pete back from his flashback.

"Yeah," Patrick decides, nodding a few times. "We can do that. Where are we, Pennsylvania?"

"Yep," Joe nods, scratching his hair.

"Fleas, Joe?" Pete teases half-heartedly, because all he can think of is Patrick's tongue, but he doesn't want to be too quiet. If he's quiet, they'll all know something's up.

"Maybe you got lice from him," Patrick says, jutting his thumb at Pete. "Since you two were cuddling the other night."

"Jealous?" Pete smirks, raising his eyebrows at Patrick. His expression is suggestive. And, of course, he happens to be shirtless.

Patrick's lips part, but he wets them to cover it up. "Not at all. Joe looked squished."

Joe grumbles something, reaching over to his iPod to change the song. He plugs his earbuds in now, and puts them in his ears.

"What'd you say?" Pete asks, leaning forward to tug one out.

Joe glances up at him, looking annoyed. "I said, 'Yeah, he wouldn't fucking let go.'"

"Oh. Well, that's just 'cause I was cold. And you were warm."

"Or you were imagining I was Patrick."

"Shut up, Joe," Patrick and Pete say simultaneously. Andy expects them to look at each other in surprise or something, but Pete keeps frowning at Joe and Patrick keeps focused on his laptop. He's got one headphone over his ear, the other pulled to the side so he can hear what's going on around him.

 _It's like folie à deux,_ Andy thinks, smiling to himself. _They share their madness._

"Okay, so we can add Mr. Brightside to the setlist?" Andy asks, trying to hear the drums in the song in his head. He'll listen to it a few more times and he'll learn it. It should be pretty easy.

"Sure," Patrick says, before putting his headphones on all the way.

The day passes uneventfully. Patrick sits at his laptop the entire day, apparently working on a song. He still seems to be in a bad mood; he doesn't really smile at all. Pete is glued to his phone. Joe plays guitar, watches movies, and/or eats, and that's all he really does. Andy sits in a corner, quiet, listening to music and playing on his Sidekick.

Then it's nighttime, and Andy is the first asleep again. Joe wanders into his bunk at around eleven. It's just Pete and Patrick now.

Pete's put his phone up for the night, and he's just sitting there in the dark. He can't see anything but the light of the computer screen. It's illuminating Patrick's face, so Pete can see the familiar hat, glasses, nose, and mouth he knows so well. He can also see the little Band-Aid that's still on his forehead, half of it hidden by his hat. Patrick's lips - the ones Pete can still feel on his own - are pressed together tightly again, and his eyebrows are furrowed. He's squinting at the bright screen. Pete watches silently as Patrick pushes his glasses up and rubs at his eyes. He yawns, and then Pete can't help the loud yawn that he himself is suddenly emitting.

Patrick looks at him. One side of his mouth quirks up - it's not a smile, but it's close. "I forgot you were still there."

"Yep, I'm still here." _And I'm always gonna be, whether you like it or not._

"It's midnight. Kinda late, huh? We should go to sleep."

"You're a night owl."

"Not when we're touring, I'm not."

"Yeah. Okay." Pete bites his tongue. "So. The other night."

Patrick's jaw tightens. "Yeah. What about it?"

"Do you - should we - wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. I'd like to forget it ever happened."

"You remember it?"

"I wasn't that drunk."

Pete is kind of glad Patrick can't see how big he smiles just then. He tries to keep the grin out of his voice when he speaks. "Not that drunk?"

"Well, y'know. I was _kind of_ drunk. Pretty drunk. But not - not that drunk. That's why I said no. If I was - if I was drunk drunk, I would've said yes. I would've said hell yes."

Pete's smile grows even wider. His face kind of hurts now. "Is it 'cause we're guys?"

"Partly, yes, and you're Pete, and you're my bandmate, and you're my best friend."

Pete's smile droops a little, and he says, "Best friends, ex-friends 'til the end. Better off as lovers, and not the other way around."

"Shut up."

"The song speaks the truth."

"God, Pete, would you stop it already? We're not - we're not like that. There's nothing. Nothing. Okay?"

Pete's smile disappears completely. "Nuh. Nothing?"

"Nothing." Patrick's voice is harsh.

Pete growls a little, debating something. Then he gives in and lunges forward, pressing his lips hard to Patrick's. It's an instant repeat of a few nights before; Patrick struggles to get free, but eventually goes limp and lets Pete adjust their position so he's straddling Patrick comfortably. The blonde tentatively moves his hands up, grasping Pete's hair. It's greasy because Pete hasn't showered in a while, and he's still got hair gel from days ago in there. But Patrick doesn't care. Besides, Patrick's not the cleanest or nicest smelling himself; he's sweaty and unbathed and unshaved. But Pete doesn't seem to mind. 

Pete's grinding down against him, hands firm on Patrick's shoulders. He reaches down to lightly runs his left hand over the bulge in the other man's pants, then does so again and adds some pressure this time, grinning wide again when this earns him a small gasp.

"Pete," Patrick says, squirming underneath him and turning his head to the side. Pete takes it as an invitation to nip and suck at his neck, and while he's expecting Patrick to just give in at this point, he's surprised by the hands that come up and stop him.

"Pete," Patrick says again, meeting Pete's eyes this time and holding his gaze. Pete's always loved Patrick's eyes - really, he's always loved his whole face. His whole body. His whole - everything about him.

"Yeah?" Pete asks softly, tilting his head to the side and hoping he looks cute and pitiful enough that Patrick will give in.

Patrick gazes up at him, blankly for a moment, then with amusement in his eyes and on his lips. "God, Pete." He shakes his head.

"What?"

"Nothing," Patrick says, and then leans up and claims Pete's mouth again. He's finally smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> So. That was my first story on this site ever, and my first FOB fic. I hope you enjoyed it, and I really hope it was in character. I edited it profusely, but it wasn't betaed. This took, like, five days, and I'm pretty proud of it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
